The Marsh Harrier

(She/her) I am new to writing fanfiction so this is a creative outlet for me. Any constructive feedback is welcome.. If you read my work and like it, I'm happy to take requests for Harry Potter/Yellowstone/RDR2 Characters only. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome or supported here.  If I don't feel comfortable writing a request, I will reply and ask you to pick something else. Please state gendered pronouns or gender neutrality in anything you request - if not, I will go with what I want to. 

[the-marsh-harrier]

Master list

Harry Potter Fandom - JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

- Evan Rosier 

5 minutes - not a moment longer (Full Female!Reader insert) Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 

- Orion Black

Who was Orion Black? (Partial Female!Reader insert) Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Red Dead Redemption

-Arthur Morgan

Make me Part 2 LH Arthur Morgan (Full Female!Reader insert) MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

[the-marsh-harrier]

It's my 11 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[the-marsh-harrier]

Who was Orion Black? (Pt 10) Orion Black x Female!Reader

A/N: I wanted to explore Sirius’s childhood more in a non-traditional sense and give Orion and Walburga some interesting character development. This takes place after Sirius has broken out of Azkaban. Although this is a reader insert in parts, it is not the main focus and some chapters will have little or no mention of the reader. I have also altered the year Walburga was born to be 1940 instead of 1925 as it states in cannon (this is my fanfic and I’ll do what I want with the characters that are in it). Similarly, remember everyone is entitled to portray fictional characters as they want in their fanfics and if you disagree, please write your own. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

Who was Orion Black? (Partial Female!Reader insert) Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 (Part 10)

What is that hiding in the painting?

It had been a few days since Sirius went through the portrait, but it was safe to say, he had no intention of doing it again. Sirius felt terrible since he returned from his visit and, if he was honest, he was still shaken up from it. He had never experienced magic like that and he never wanted too again. However, his fear didn’t stop him from trying to work out what kind of magic could’ve made this, what was in that painting? It was bothering him that he didn’t know. He had searched through nearly every book in the house but alas, his searched turned up empty and now he was trapped within the walls of his childhood home, he couldn’t simply walk out and into a library to look further. His only option was to enlist the help of Remus once more.

Remus had come to see the painting for himself and had experienced its terrifying grip at it produced his departed loved ones. He heard their voices; he saw their faces; he was drawn into its watery embrace until Sirius stood in the reflection with him. The faces soon whirled and twirled, never taking a solid form – the clouds of smoke-like balls continued to spin round and round, fighting with each other for space. The movements they made mimicked a boggart when viewed by multiple people, dipping in and out of each viewers life but unable to settle. That’s when Sirius freed the bottle and that painting was as it always had been, just a solitary chair and nothing more.

Remus, in his frenzied state of mind left shortly after muttering about getting Dumbledore to investigate the painting because he had no clue what could’ve created such a horrible thing. This left Sirius alone with the thing once more.

Since Sirius had returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, he had found a lot of comfort in his father’s study. Unlike the rest of the house, it felt safe in there and like the world hadn’t changed completely from his juvenile days sitting at the piano tinkering away while Orion busied himself at the desk. It had a delightful warmth that Sirius hadn’t felt in decades but now… it was gone. Whenever he was in there, he kept one eye on the painting – it felt as if whatever was lurking behind the layers of paint was watching and waiting to take him back into another world. As a result, the last string on Sirius’s safety net was cut and there was nowhere left to retreat to in the house that truly left like home.

The days wait before Dumbledore and Remus arrived was agonising for Sirius so when the day finally arrived, a sense of security washed back over him as pleasantries were exchanged between them.

“Now, I understand you have something rather interesting to show me.” Dumbledore motioned toward the study.

“Right, yes. You see, don’t know what it is.” Sirius continued to explain as they walked into Orion’s den. “There’s this bottle that never fills no matter what you pour into it.” Sirius showed Dumbledore the bottle. “Then, if you will close the door Remus?” Sirius asked as he placed the bottle on the piano resulting in the luminescent music bars to appear on the ceiling again. “Well, this happened.”

“Very interesting. Remus, you explained to me that there was some kind of portal in this painting. Is this how you access it?” Dumbledore quired pointing at the masterpiece hug in front of them.

“Yes. When Sirius plays the music, it opens.” Remus commented.

“Fascinating.” Dumbledore moved to stand next to the piano and drummed his fingers on it lightly. “Sirius, if you wouldn’t mind.” He motioned his hand toward Sirius but never looked at him. Sirius obliged and carried out the request thus revealing the mirrors surface. Fear coursed through Sirius as stared at the thing, but Dumbledore seemed entranced.

The old wizard moved closer to it and ran his wrinkled hand along the frame. All his movements seemed calculated as to never align his face with the reflective surface. He licked the tip of his right index finger before gentle touching the mirrored edge. Sirius went to stop him, but Remus simply put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder to stop him.

Dumbledore hummed in approval. “Orion, you really have outperformed yourself.” Albus muttered quietly. “This is remarkable.” His crystal eyes danced along the frames edge. “So how did you do it?”

“I’m sorry, do what?” Sirius questioned; concern laced in his words.

“No spell can reawaken the dead. Your father found a way to make a connection. He found a way to make the dead seem as if alive. They can pull us to them instead of them pulled to us.”

“Albus, that is impossible.” Remus interrupted.

“Perhaps not.” Albus moved slightly away from the frame. “So what could this be?” The old man’s eyes sparkled with joy. “I knew your father was a competent wizard but to achieve this, it must’ve taken him years to complete. I have only heard whispers of such magic being possible before but that required the use of the stone of resurrection.”

“So, the stone, it has to be in frame somewhere?” Sirius was confused. Why did his father go to such lengths to create this?

“Tell me, Sirius. Have you gone through this portal?” Albus’s voice turned grave as he locked eyes with Sirius.

“Yes.” Sirius admitted somewhat uneasily.

Albus grabbed both of Sirius’s arms and shook him slightly. “What happened? You have to tell me what happened.”

“Well... erm… I saw my brother, James and my father in the frame. James called me forward because he said… he said my father had something he needed to tell me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes grew wider. “What? What did he tell you?”

“That they were going to kill him. That he and my brother were going to make him mortal, but he never told me who he was.” Albus stared off into the corner of the room as he let go of Sirius.

Dumbledore knocked the bottle from atop the piano causing it to smash on the floor. Quickly, he withdrew his wand and brought the painting down to the ground before falling to his knees and studying every inch of the golden etched frame. “He worked it out. Your father worked it out. I thought he was part of it for his own interest, but he was obviously working under his own accord... and he made this to get a head start on where to look.”

“Working under his own what? A head start? What are you talking about?” Sirius was getting frustrated with all the crypted messages he was being sent.

"Your father appears to have been much more than I could've ever assumed. A very cunning man." Albus mumbled as much to himself as the others in the room. "As for what your father was collecting, they are Horcrux. Voldemort, he split his soul. When Harry destroyed the diary in his second year, he destroyed one of the Horcrux. You father was sourcing the others with your brother and your father created a portal to help locate them.”

Albus continued to study the etching and carvings over the ornate frame. The carvings mimicking life cycles of moths and cicadas all linked by the Ouroboros which had ensnared owls, grims, and vultures. Dumbledore squinted even harder that's when he noticed the texture... the frame wasn't buffed or plated... no... that was skin, golden skin. Dragon skin. The whole frame was covered in a dragon skin to look golden.

"Perspicere subter..." Albus whispered as he stroked the tip of his wand along the painting's edge. The scales nearest his wand faded into a clear skin and the true material of the frame was visible. The veining and variation was a clear indicator that this was a frame made of stone. Not just any stone - limestone. "Fascinating..."

"Albus, please stop muttering and tell us what magic is in that godforsaken painting." Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ever since he'd looked in that blasted thing, he'd felt a growing pressure in his skull building behind his eyes.

"Orion created a gateway to enable communication with the dead. This goes beyond scrying or séance and he fortified it with protective elements such as dragon scales and limestone. Dark arts couldn't permeate its frame to intrude or exit." Albus explained before stepping back to examine the painting at large. "I've only known such magic to be possible through the resurrection stone but your father counter-engineered it. Instead of them coming to us... we go to them."

“What?” Remus asked as Sirius was too shocked to speak. Orion had chosen Sirius, he had chosen to turn his back on what Sirius thought he had joined. "Is the stone in there somewhere? Surely it has to be?" Remus's voice got more clipped as the pain in his head grew greater the longer he spent around that painting.

“No. It is not here." Albus almost whispered into the room before focusing in on Remus and the effect the painting was having on him. Remus had always been more sensitive to unseen entities as part of the wolf in him but this pain was more than that. It was the shared pain of many piling onto the most instinctual part of Remus.

"Orion was in Voldemort’s most inner circle during their schooling years. The pair were very close as Orion was one of the only elites that would speak to him. I believe over the years; Orion became a confidante to him through the course of their friendship, but I noticed Orion quickly distance himself from the whole group after the death a muggleborn.” Albus’s nose was mere inches from the painting. “Voldemort killed the girl to make the first of many Horcrux in an effort to become immortal. When a Horcrux is made, part of the killer's soul is fused to the victim's in an enduring spiral before encased in an object. Part of the victim is allowed to move on but it is incomplete leaving behind a strained residue whenever they exist in our world. You can sense it, can't you? Albus took a step towards Remus who was partially turned away now trying to stop the nauseating bubbling in his back of his throat.

"I believe Orion was using this to communicate with the other victims used to create the Horcrux and by doing so, locate them. That is why the residue lingers around the frame and why Remus is so affected." Albus concluded before returning the frame to the wall with a flick of his wand.

“If he knew for all those years that this was happening, why didn’t he do something sooner?” Sirius was dumbfounded. How could Orion not tell anyone anything about this?

Albus's usually curious eyes shifted into a much sharper gaze. "You said you went through this." Dumbledore whispered, almost accusatory, like something darkly desperate was slithering inside of him. “You saw your brother and father. Where did they take you? Did they show you anything? Anywhere?” Urgency bathed his voice. “Did your father show you what he had collected?”

It was in that moment that Sirius answered his own question. If Orion had told anyone, then there would be too many questions and too many loose ends. Plus, if Orion was experiencing the agonising deaths of all those who died to create the Dark Lord's immortality, it was unlikely something he'd one to share. Sirius didn't even want to share his own experience behind the veil in great detail and that most likely paled in comparison to what Orion would've endured.

"We only spoke and I sat with me as he died.” Sirius voice carried a mechanical undertone.

“Right. Well, if you encounter anything else unusual in this house, you are to inform me as a matter of grave importance. I may require you to re-enter the painting when I call for it. Do you understand?” Dumbledore's voice shifted back into a wispy and curious tone, but the sense of authority remained embedded in every syllable.

“Yes, Albus. I understand.” Sirius offered the old wizard a slow nod.

Albus turned back to Remus who was starting to clutch at his hair like he could stem the mounting pressure building in his brain. "Come, Remus. You look like you could do with some rest." Albus placed a hand on Remus's back and disapparated them away from 12 Grimmauld Place.

[goreyirl]

🦂 .

I love how these came out

DT: @souiiore

[the-marsh-harrier]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 1000 likes!

Holy... wow.... I need to start writing again in this case... just... wow....

[foundynnel-deactivated20250812]

[the-marsh-harrier]

Oh... oh?... oh!... oooooh 🙊

[slothulous]

[the-marsh-harrier]

This is the Arthur Morgan that plagues me in the best ways 🤤🤤🤤

[messrmoonyy]

his WAIST

[the-marsh-harrier]

Anyone else just wanna wrap their arms round that waist and kiss between his shoulder blades? Nah? Just me? 🙃

[awakenml]

Thank you rockstar for the canon ending

[arthursfuckinghat]

The sun is your halo, for it is always above you.

Arthur and Weetabix 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Scarlett Meadows

[arthurs-btch]

a man, a man, a ma-a-a-an

[the-marsh-harrier]

🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

Arthur? 😳

[the-marsh-harrier]

This will forever live rent free in my mind

[the-marsh-harrier]

Make me… Pt2 (LH!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader)

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and my second time writing for Arthur, RDR2. I'm easing back into writing after a long break so be kind. I am also writing this quite late so apologies in advance if there are errors. If you're going to share my writing, please reblog and I don't give permission for my work to be copied onto any other platforms. I only write on Tumblr so if you see this anywhere else, it's not me.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! THIS IS NOT INTENDED FOR YOU TO BE READING! OVER 18s ONLY!

Warnings: Swearing, sexual content, NSFW, LH!Arthur as per, fingering, vaginal penetration. (If I missed anything, please let me know)

Terminology: Combinations - combined chemise and drawers into one garment, first appeared in the late 1860s or early 1870s. By the 1890s, combinations had largely replaced the long chemise worn over a separate pair of drawers. (definition by FIDM Museum) 

Make me - Part 1 (recommended read but not required)

Masterlist

“You make the filthiest things sound like a fucking prayer.” You whispered breathlessly as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arthur smirked and chuckled lowly in response while one of his hands smoothed over the hair on the side of your head. “The filthiest things are all I deserve, and all I have to give.” He whispered as he took hold of your chin causing you to open your eyes to see his ocean eyes staring back into yours. His eyes held lustful adoration, something far deeper than you’d seen before. You thought you’d seen glimpses of his love for you before now but now you were truly seeing all of it.

“Let me worship you the only way I know how.” He mumbled, giving into his urges, and kissing you with the force only matched by a hurricane.

_____________________________________________________________

His mouth assaulted yours with the ferocity of a cornered animal, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and firmly stroking yours forcing it into submission. The taste of tobacco and sugar mints coated your tastebuds marking every millimetre of your mouth he bullied. The sting of his coarse beard was momentarily eased by his warm breath escaping from his nose caressing the aggravated skin around your mouth. The kiss forced you to curve under its weight, but he didn’t relent as his calloused left hand tangled into your hair pinning you between its vicelike grip and his greedy lips. He denied you any reprieve resulting in the pair of you snatching any breath that he’d permit.

He caught your lower lip between his jagged teeth, chipped from years of fighting. He sucked the pump skin into his mouth as he slowly pulled back scraping his teeth along the fragile skin enough to cause the sweetest pain but not break its integrity.

With a brutal tug of your hair, he tilted your head back to commence punishing the skin of your neck in the same feral fashion as he had your lips; rewarding him a growl from the back of your throat. He nipped your neck, leaving the skin rouged as a long deep chuckle reverberated against the skin before his lips descended onto your collarbone. His rough tongue teasing the tort skin over the bone as his right hand massaged small circles on your lower back. His hat started to get in his way of his desires to taste the skin on your neck, his hand on your back quickly moved to rip the thing off his head and throw it behind him in the tent before returning to your back.

Your fingers found the cool metal of his gun belt buckle and nibbly released its hold on his hips allowing it to fall to the ground with a soft thud and gentle clang of his pistols. The release of the article making him grunt as his appendage swelled freely in his jeans. He squeezed your body to his with added pressure from his right hand on your back. The hardened bulge in his jeans ground into the bunched-up fabric of your skirts offering you the smallest amount of friction.

“For fucks sake, Arthur… just hurry up.” You groaned quietly as you rolled your hips into his, pulling him closer as your dug your heels into the back of his thighs.

He let out a breathy chuckle as his licked a strong line from your collarbone to your ear. “Shut the fuck up.” He huffed against your ear and grazed his teeth along your earlobe making you shudder.

His hand left moved from your hair leaving a cold sting on your scalp as the tension on your strands eased and roamed down the side of your body, groping you as it descended. Both his hands moved under your skirts as he clawed at your thighs and kneaded your muscles. “I’m doing this my fucking way and you’re gonna let me.” He hissed against your ear as his nose nuzzled into your hair affectionately, inhaling your scent.

His fingers played with the lace on your combinations as he teased himself denying the pair of you the sweet sensation of his skin against yours. Your breath grew heavier by the second as you rested your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as you soaked in the bitter frustration of need.

His head came to rest against yours, his eyes closed as focused on the sound of your strained breathing. He shifted his head slightly to place gentle kiss to your temple in one of the rare tender moments you’ve experienced with him; however, it was short lived as you felt his hand push passed the split crotch of your combination. The pressure of his thick fingers at your entrance between your legs made you ache with desire and frustration as your jaw tensed. His left hand continued to toy with the lace of your combinations while his index and middle finger circled your soaked hole collecting the moisture on his fingertips.

He pushed the digits into your core steadily until they were knuckle deep causing a high-pitched gasp to breach your lips.

“Shhhh…” He hushed quietly. “Unless you want Grimshaw or some nosey pervert to come in here, you better shut up.” His voice took on an authoritative hiss as he curled his fingers and stroked your inner walls firmly.

You bit down the collar of his jacket to force yourself to be quiet, huffing your breath out your nose in the same rhythm of his fingers working you. He tilted his head to look down at you with a cocky – almost condescending – smirk. “Do what you gotta, I guess.” He chuckled lowly as his left thumb move to your clit pressing down and massaging slow large circles.

Your breath stuttered through your nose as your back tensed and your thighs squeezed his hips. Your gaze met his, still with the collar of his jacket in your mouth, and you glared sharply up at him. His eyes narrowed causing the creases in the corners to deepen and his smirk widened further. “Oh, you love it so don’t look at me like you don’t.” He whispered lowly, the rasp in his voice thickening with lust.

He pushed his fingers further into you until he found that special spot that makes your hips twitch and grind against his hand. You gasped and bit down harder on the material held in your mouth and growled quietly in pleasure. “Oh, there it is.” He taunted. “Right fucking there, huh?”

You nodded slowly as your rode against the rhythm of his fingers willing your release to come quicker. You continued to glare at him despite the pleasure he was delivering to you as his thumb on your clit massaged smaller circles and quickened to match the pace of his fingers inside you.

Your breath quickened more and more the closer you got to bliss and the icy burning tension in your thighs and lower stomach built. Your toes curled in your boots and your hand gripped his forearm in the tightest grip you could, silently encouraging him to continue the movement of his fingers. Your nails dug into the tanned and scarred flesh leaving crescent shaped indents. He brought your closer and closer to release leaving your teetering on the edge as your body twitched and shook against his. A thin layer of sweat decorated your forehead and chest as you heaved in breath after breath.

He dipped his head next your ear again fanning his warm breath over the sensitive skin. “You look so good like this...” He whispered with an arrogant tone. “So fucking good…”

The tip of his nose traced the shell of your ear as he breathed in deeply. “Do it… I dare you…” He threatened lowly through a small chuckle and that’s all it took to push you over the edge of bliss with a shameless groan. Your whole body tensed, and your thighs clamped round his hips desperately. The roll of your hips giving into the natural pattern your body craved and he willingly gave into with his fingers buried inside you.

His left hand grabbed the back of your neck through your hair pushing your body against his, your senses unravelled, and your body curled around his. Arthur pressed a long kiss against the hair on the side of your head as he revelled in the pleasure he’d given you. Your body relaxed and slumped against his as you fought to get more air into your lungs. You let him hold you like that, his fingers now still and motionless inside you, as you came back to your right mind.

You took in a deep breath and leaned back into a seated position, releasing your grip on his arm, and using your hand to support your body on the table.

He slowly removed his finger and held them up examining them and chuckling to himself. “Jesus… you are a messy girl, ain’tcha?”

His ocean eyes locked with yours as his placed his fingers in his mouth and ran his tongue between them to clean them off as he slowly pulled them back out again. “Good thing I like it messy.” He smirked as he dried his fingers of on your petticoat.

You laughed as you leant yourself back on the table, your palms flat to the surface and your head tilted back. His little show of cleaning his fingers somehow stimulating parts of you that you kept shielded away from the world. You heard him undoing his jeans and pulling his full erection from them.

You lifted your head watch him as he lifted your skirts and lined himself up with your dripping core. His gazed fully focused on his cock’s head brushing the opening. He always loved to watch the first push in, he loved watching your body swallow him greedily into its warm and wet embrace.

He looked gorgeous. His eyebrows furrowed in sinful concentration and his lower lip drawn into his mouth and held there by his teeth. His right hand tightly gripping his hardon while his left hand braced on your thigh holding it open to him. He watched eagerly as his cock brushed between your folds, making room for him, and collecting the wetness to make it slide in easier. “Fuck yeah…” he mumbled to himself as he final decided it was time to push into you.

The delicious pressure of him invading your hole sent every nerve on your body on fire with adrenaline, almost like looking over the edge of a tall building. A sharp gasp left your lips as you bit your lip to try and keep your activities a secret to the gang members milling about outside the tent. His head slowly tilted up to look in your eyes as he slowly withdrew partially and pushed further into you, repeating the motion for as long as it took until he was completely sheathed inside you and moving with ease. He gripped your thighs painfully as he rutted into you with force and crashed his lips to yours again in a feverish kiss.

“Such a good fucking cunt.” He grunted against your lips as panted heavily through his pleasure. It was too soon after your last orgasm for you to have another but that didn’t diminish the electric feeling of him pounding into you for his own release.

You sat further forward, cupping his jaw and scratching your nails through his beard. He shuddered as tilted his head back smiling in smug bliss as his eyes closed and a breathy chuckle broke from his lips. The sweat quickly formed on his brow, glistening in the warm glow of the sun in the tent. He shook his head like a wild bison and looked back down to where you were joined at the hips focusing on the image of his cock burying into you with each thrust. He drew his lip back into his mouth and bit it harshly before his darkened eyes locked with yours again.

His expression now almost pleading, showing a sinful innocence as he silently communicated his pleasure and desire through harsh pants through his nose. He was close, so dangerously close but he didn’t want to pull out yet. Not yet, it would always feel too soon.

You pressed your forehead to his, keeping your eyes locked with his as your hand migrated into his hair and tugged it gently. “Fuck it… just do it…” You whispered lowly as you threw caution to the wind. “Fucking cum in me.” You panted and locked your ankles behind his hips making it difficult for him to pull out.

Arthur groaned loudly as he picked up his pace desperately. He wasn’t going to be told twice or give you a chance to reconsider. His hips stuttered and his thrusts became erratic as you watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. He gritted his teeth and growled loudly as his body stilled and his spend pulsed into you. He snatched a breath quickly as his grabbed your hips roughly pulling you closer as his body instinctively pumped everything he had into you. His mouth dropped open as gravelly groans and expletives flowed freely from his lips.

Slowly, the tension left him body as he wrapped his arms round you in a tight embrace and buried his face into your neck in a desperate attempt to get closer to you. He fought to catch his breath as you played with his hair and rubbed his back affectionately as he slowly came back to the realm of the living. He gradually pulled back from your embraced and held your face between his calloused hands softly – his hold so soft almost like he was frightened to break you if it were any firmer.

He looked at you, his eyes showing you all the emotions his heart would allow. His gaze was almost too much, too overwhelming but you couldn’t look away. Everything about this moment pulled at your heartstrings and without thinking to told him how you really felt.

“I love you, Arthur.” You whisper barely above a breath and even though he couldn’t bring himself to say those words himself. He couldn’t let those words pass his lips… his eyes said it better than his tongue ever could.

“I know, baby… I know…” He whispered back as he leant in to kiss you tenderly.

Tags (as requested): @photo1030

A/N: Thank you for reading. This is the end of "Make me..." but I am a lover of LH!Arthur and have more fics planned for him or involving him (SFW and NSFW) and other characters (SFW). As always, likes, reblogs and comments are welcome.

[photo1030]

Ooo, so hot! 🥵 this is a wonderful balance of LH Arthur with our beloved HH Arthur. Love that she can hold her own, no problem too. Very well done! Feel free to tag me on the next one.

[the-marsh-harrier]

----------------------------------------------------------

Hi! Thanks for the wonderful comments!!! I like to think of Arthur being a complicated mashup of both LH and HH - you'd just see glimpses of whichever one isn't his main archetype.

Also, I tried to make my reader a little more confident and stand-offish. I read a lot of fics where the reader just kind of has things done to them or submits straight away (no problem with that, everyone has their own preferences). I just kind of liked the idea of a more challenging/switch dynamic and I'm glad it showed through 💛

[the-marsh-harrier]

Make me… Pt2 (LH!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader)

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and my second time writing for Arthur, RDR2. I'm easing back into writing after a long break so be kind. I am also writing this quite late so apologies in advance if there are errors. If you're going to share my writing, please reblog and I don't give permission for my work to be copied onto any other platforms. I only write on Tumblr so if you see this anywhere else, it's not me.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! THIS IS NOT INTENDED FOR YOU TO BE READING! OVER 18s ONLY!

Warnings: Swearing, sexual content, NSFW, LH!Arthur as per, fingering, vaginal penetration. (If I missed anything, please let me know)

Terminology: Combinations - combined chemise and drawers into one garment, first appeared in the late 1860s or early 1870s. By the 1890s, combinations had largely replaced the long chemise worn over a separate pair of drawers. (definition by FIDM Museum) 

Make me - Part 1 (recommended read but not required)

Masterlist

“You make the filthiest things sound like a fucking prayer.” You whispered breathlessly as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arthur smirked and chuckled lowly in response while one of his hands smoothed over the hair on the side of your head. “The filthiest things are all I deserve, and all I have to give.” He whispered as he took hold of your chin causing you to open your eyes to see his ocean eyes staring back into yours. His eyes held lustful adoration, something far deeper than you’d seen before. You thought you’d seen glimpses of his love for you before now but now you were truly seeing all of it.

“Let me worship you the only way I know how.” He mumbled, giving into his urges, and kissing you with the force only matched by a hurricane.

_____________________________________________________________

His mouth assaulted yours with the ferocity of a cornered animal, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and firmly stroking yours forcing it into submission. The taste of tobacco and sugar mints coated your tastebuds marking every millimetre of your mouth he bullied. The sting of his coarse beard was momentarily eased by his warm breath escaping from his nose caressing the aggravated skin around your mouth. The kiss forced you to curve under its weight, but he didn’t relent as his calloused left hand tangled into your hair pinning you between its vicelike grip and his greedy lips. He denied you any reprieve resulting in the pair of you snatching any breath that he’d permit.

He caught your lower lip between his jagged teeth, chipped from years of fighting. He sucked the pump skin into his mouth as he slowly pulled back scraping his teeth along the fragile skin enough to cause the sweetest pain but not break its integrity.

With a brutal tug of your hair, he tilted your head back to commence punishing the skin of your neck in the same feral fashion as he had your lips; rewarding him a growl from the back of your throat. He nipped your neck, leaving the skin rouged as a long deep chuckle reverberated against the skin before his lips descended onto your collarbone. His rough tongue teasing the tort skin over the bone as his right hand massaged small circles on your lower back. His hat started to get in his way of his desires to taste the skin on your neck, his hand on your back quickly moved to rip the thing off his head and throw it behind him in the tent before returning to your back.

Your fingers found the cool metal of his gun belt buckle and nibbly released its hold on his hips allowing it to fall to the ground with a soft thud and gentle clang of his pistols. The release of the article making him grunt as his appendage swelled freely in his jeans. He squeezed your body to his with added pressure from his right hand on your back. The hardened bulge in his jeans ground into the bunched-up fabric of your skirts offering you the smallest amount of friction.

“For fucks sake, Arthur… just hurry up.” You groaned quietly as you rolled your hips into his, pulling him closer as your dug your heels into the back of his thighs.

He let out a breathy chuckle as his licked a strong line from your collarbone to your ear. “Shut the fuck up.” He huffed against your ear and grazed his teeth along your earlobe making you shudder.

How left hand moved from your hair, leaving a cold sting on your scalp as the tension on your strands eased, and roamed down the side of your body, groping you as it descended. Both his hands moved under your skirts as he clawed at your thighs and kneaded your muscles. “I’m doing this my fucking way and you’re gonna let me.” He hissed against your ear as his nose nuzzled into your hair affectionately, inhaling your scent.

His fingers played with the lace on your combinations as he teased himself denying the pair of you the sweet sensation of his skin against yours. Your breath grew heavier by the second as you rested your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as you soaked in the bitter frustration of need.

His head came to rest against yours, his eyes closed as focused on the sound of your strained breathing. He shifted his head slightly to place gentle kiss to your temple in one of the rare tender moments you’ve experienced with him; however, it was short lived as you felt his hand push passed the split crotch of your combination. The pressure of his thick fingers at your entrance between your legs made you ache with desire and frustration as your jaw tensed. His left hand continued to toy with the lace of your combinations while his index and middle finger circled your soaked hole collecting the moisture on his fingertips.

He pushed the digits into your core steadily until they were knuckle deep causing a high-pitched gasp to breach your lips.

“Shhhh…” He hushed quietly. “Unless you want Grimshaw or some nosey pervert to come in here, you better shut up.” His voice took on an authoritative hiss as he curled his fingers and stroked your inner walls firmly.

You bit down the collar of his jacket to force yourself to be quiet, huffing your breath out your nose in the same rhythm of his fingers working you. He tilted his head to look down at you with a cocky – almost condescending – smirk. “Do what you gotta, I guess.” He chuckled lowly as his left thumb move to your clit pressing down and massaging slow large circles.

Your breath stuttered through your nose as your back tensed and your thighs squeezed his hips. Your gaze met his, still with the collar of his jacket in your mouth, and you glared sharply up at him. His eyes narrowed causing the creases in the corners to deepen and his smirk widened further. “Oh, you love it so don’t look at me like you don’t.” He whispered lowly, the rasp in his voice thickening with lust.

He pushed his fingers further into you until he found that special spot that makes your hips twitch and grind against his hand. You gasped and bit down harder on the material held in your mouth and growled quietly in pleasure. “Oh, there it is.” He taunted. “Right fucking there, huh?”

You nodded slowly as your rode against the rhythm of his fingers willing your release to come quicker. You continued to glare at him despite the pleasure he was delivering to you as his thumb on your clit massaged smaller circles and quickened to match the pace of his fingers inside you.

Your breath quickened more and more the closer you got to bliss and the icy burning tension in your thighs and lower stomach built. Your toes curled in your boots and your hand gripped his forearm in the tightest grip you could, silently encouraging him to continue the movement of his fingers. Your nails dug into the tanned and scarred flesh leaving crescent shaped indents. He brought your closer and closer to release leaving your teetering on the edge as your body twitched and shook against his. A thin layer of sweat decorated your forehead and chest as you heaved in breath after breath.

He dipped his head next your ear again fanning his warm breath over the sensitive skin. “You look so good like this...” He whispered with an arrogant tone. “So fucking good…”

The tip of his nose traced the shell of your ear as he breathed in deeply. “Do it… I dare you…” He threatened lowly through a small chuckle and that’s all it took to push you over the edge of bliss with a shameless groan. Your whole body tensed, and your thighs clamped round his hips desperately. The roll of your hips giving into the natural pattern your body craved and he willingly gave into with his fingers buried inside you.

His left hand grabbed the back of your neck through your hair pushing your body against his, your senses completely unravelled, and your body curled around his. Arthur pressed a long kiss against the hair on the side of your head as he revelled in the pleasure he’d given you. Your body relaxed and slumped against his as you fought to get more air into your lungs. You let him hold you like that, his fingers now still and motionless inside you, as you came back to your right mind.

You took in a deep breath and leaned back into a seated position, releasing your grip on his arm, and using your hand to support your body on the table.

He slowly removed his finger and held them up examining them and chuckling to himself. “Jesus… you are a messy girl, ain’tcha?”

His ocean eyes locked with yours as his placed his fingers in his mouth and ran his tongue between them to clean them off as he slowly pulled them back out again. “Good thing I like it messy.” He smirked as he dried his fingers of on your petticoat.

You laughed as you leant yourself back on the table, your palms flat to the surface and your head tilted back. His little show of cleaning his fingers somehow stimulating parts of you that you kept shielded away from the world. You heard him undoing his jeans and pulling his full erection from them.

You lifted your head watch him as he lifted your skirts and lined himself up with your dripping core. His gazed fully focused on his cock’s head brushing the opening. He always loved to watch the first push in, he loved watching your body swallow him greedily into its warm and wet embrace.

He looked gorgeous. His eyebrows furrowed in sinful concentration and his lower lip drawn into his mouth and held there by his teeth. His right hand tightly gripping his hardon while his left hand braced on your thigh holding it open to him. He watched eagerly as his cock brushed between your folds, making room for him, and collecting the wetness to make it slide in easier. “Fuck yeah…” he mumbled to himself as he final decided it was time to push into you.

The delicious pressure of him invading your hole sent every nerve on your body on fire with adrenaline, almost like looking over the edge of a tall building. A sharp gasp left your lips as you bit your lip to try and keep your activities a secret to the gang members milling about outside the tent. His head slowly tilted up to look in your eyes as he slowly withdrew partially and pushed further into you, repeating the motion for as long as it took until he was completely sheathed inside you and moving with ease. He gripped your thighs painfully as he rutted into you with force and crashed his lips to yours again in a feverish kiss.

“Such a good fucking cunt.” He grunted against your lips as panted heavily through his pleasure. It was too soon after your last orgasm for you to have another but that didn’t diminish the electric feeling of him pounding into you for his own release.

You sat further forward, cupping his jaw and scratching your nails through his beard. He shuddered as tilted his head back smiling in smug bliss as his eyes closed and a breathy chuckle broke from his lips. The sweat quickly formed on his brow, glistening in the warm glow of the sun in the tent. He shook his head like a wild bison and looked back down to where you were joined at the hips focusing on the image of his cock burying into you with each thrust. He drew his lip back into his mouth and bit it harshly before his darkened eyes locked with yours again.

His expression now almost pleading, showing a sinful innocence as he silently communicated his pleasure and desire through harsh pants through his nose. He was close, so dangerously close but he didn’t want to pull out yet. Not yet, it would always feel too soon.

You pressed your forehead to his, keeping your eyes locked with his as your hand migrated into his hair and tugged it gently. “Fuck it… just do it…” You whispered lowly as you threw caution to the wind. “Fucking cum in me.” You panted and locked your ankles behind his hips making it difficult for him to pull out.

Arthur groaned loudly as he picked up his pace desperately. He wasn’t going to be told twice or give you a chance to reconsider. His hips stuttered and his thrusts became erratic as you watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. He gritted his teeth and growled loudly as his body stilled and his spend pulsed into you. He snatched a breath quickly as his grabbed your hips roughly pulling you closer as his body instinctively pumped everything he had into you. His mouth dropped open as gravelly groans and expletives flowed freely from his lips.

Slowly, the tension left him body as he wrapped his arms round you in a tight embrace and buried his face into your neck in a desperate attempt to get closer to you. He fought to catch his breath as you played with his hair and rubbed his back affectionately as he slowly came back to the realm of the living. He gradually pulled back from your embraced and held your face between his calloused hands softly – his hold so soft almost like he was frightened to break you if it were any firmer.

He looked at you, his eyes showing you all the emotions his heart would allow. His gaze was almost too much, too overwhelming but you couldn’t look away. Everything about this moment pulled at your heartstrings and without thinking to told him how you really felt.

“I love you, Arthur.” You whisper barely above a breath, even though you knew he couldn’t bring himself to say those words himself. He couldn’t let those words pass his lips… but his eyes... his eyes said it better than his tongue ever could.

“I know, baby… I know…” He whispered back as he leant in to kiss you tenderly.

Tags (as requested): @photo1030

A/N: Thank you for reading. This is the end of "Make me..." but I am a lover of LH!Arthur and have more fics planned for him or involving him (SFW and NSFW) and other characters (SFW). As always, likes, reblogs and comments are welcome.

[the-marsh-harrier]

Who was Orion Black? (Pt 9) Orion Black x Female!Reader

A/N: I wanted to explore Sirius’s childhood more in a non-traditional sense and give Orion and Walburga some interesting character development. This takes place after Sirius has broken out of Azkaban. Although this is a reader insert in parts, it is not the main focus and some chapters will have little or no mention of the reader. I have also altered the year Walburga was born to be 1940 instead of 1925 as it states in cannon (this is my fanfic and I’ll do what I want with the characters that are in it). Similarly, remember everyone is entitled to portray fictional characters as they want in their fanfics and if you disagree, please write your own. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Part 9)

The Portrait

When Sirius found himself in the study, he couldn’t stop the overwhelming emotions that hit him. He wasn’t ready to feel that. He needed a distraction… and right now, that distraction took the form of that forsaken pointless empty chair portrait. There was something behind that. Even if there wasn’t, Sirius needed to think there was to not have to think about Y/N and how different his life could’ve been if she hadn’t died. Sirius spent hours staring at that portrait of the chair in his father’s office. He’d tried revealing charms, but it didn’t work. Anything he tried to get whatever secret it was holding out into the open, didn’t work. Nothing worked!

So here he was, sat in the same place Orion had spent most of his days – at that piano. His legs bounced with frustration, his forearms rested on the lid of the piano and his lips pursed in thought – Sirius knew there was more to this painting than it appeared. Orion was a clever wizard, any magic he placed on this painting was going to be difficult to break. With all the mysteries in this house, it reminded Sirius of his work as an Auror; tracking down clues, trying to find a lead and maybe… just maybe, managing to crack the case.

Sirius rested his head on of his hands. There had to be a clue somewhere! It took a few seconds, but Sirius’s breath slowly began to cause condensation to form on the ebony exterior of the piano and what he saw in that small cloud startled him. The word ‘keys’ formed inside the condensated patch with a small arrow pointing down as if someone had drawn it with their finger. The message disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, but Sirius was thankful for any information he found. So, he started to study the keys more intently, just where was the clue he was looking for amongst them all.

Sirius was so distracted staring at the keys that he didn’t hear the gentle clinking coming from the shelves behind the real chair in the corner. He was so engrossed with the piano that he didn’t realise until one of the bottles on the shelf flew off and rolled across the floor before gently bumping his foot.

“What the…” Sirius picked up the bottle, studying it closely. It was a dark green bottle with a skull impression on it, presumably it held absinthe at one time but… it was… empty. The closer Sirius looked, he realised that the whole bottle wasn’t green – it was as if the glass had been dyed or dipped to make it look as if the bottle was full. This made even less sense than it being an empty bottle! The shelves had replenishing charms on all of them so this bottle couldn’t be empty… unless it was charmed to never refill but why would it be made to look as if it was full.

Sirius eyes suddenly flitted up to the portrait and to his shock; the bottle he was holding was no longer in the painting. He got up to test if this happened to any other bottles on that shelf but all of them were full and when removed, they stayed in the painting. What was even stranger though was when Sirius tried to pour the contents of one of the full bottles into the empty one, all the liquid simply disappeared. This bottle was charmed to never be filled! Or was it?

Sirius and his empty bottle moved back to the piano. “Okay so the bottle and the keys… I have an empty bottle and a piano full of keys… this is hopeless.” Sirius muttered to himself. “How will this get me anywhere?”

Sirius placed the bottle down on the piano's lid and the moment it connected with the dark polished surface – the whole room turned pitch black. For a while the solitary sound of Sirius breath was all that could be heard but it was soon joined by a slight cracking sound emanating from the piano where the bottle sat. When Sirius leaned closer, he could make out small dull green embers leaking from under the bottle and swirling their way to the top; almost like watching snow fall in reverse. They began to collect near the bottle top, creating a small clump of light which was slowly pushing the cork in the bottle up. When the cork finally broke free with a loud pop, the brightest light he had ever seen burst from the bottle.

When he could finally look back, that was when he noticed the luminescent green music bars that were on the ceiling.

“Merlin’s beard.” Sirius whispered to no one as his eyes trailed down to the portrait. “The keys, you want me to play it, don’t you?”

He had to play the music suspended in the air in front of him. It had been over twenty years since Sirius had played the piano, but it would come back to him, right? After a few rough attempts and some heated words, he managed to play it. A laugh of triumph pushed its way passed Sirius’s lips as he stared at the keys.

“I finally f*cking did it.” Sirius muttered to himself, but his moment of joy was short lived because when he looked back at that painting, it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, what he saw made his heart skip a beat and his gut drop; all he could do was stare in disbelief.

In place of that piece of art, was a mirror – the eery green glow of the room reflected across its surface. As he stood up from the piano, a translucent version of himself stared back; he wasn’t whole but not ghostly either. He looked younger, much younger; he couldn’t have been more than twenty. The reflection began to move on its own, it offered him a lop-sided smile and winked at him. Then a cloud began to form just behind him on the left; swirling and whirling until it imploded on itself and took the form of James Potter at around the same age. It happened again on the right and there was Regulus. Sirius started to hyperventilate by the time a third one appeared and revealed Orion Black. Orion looked older, he was older than the memories that Sirius had seen and older than what he remembered him.

Slowly, Orion extended his hand toward Sirius and it protruded from the mirror, his hand looked like moving water confined into one shape. Sirius stared in horror at this. He hadn’t seen this magic before. Then Sirius heard a voice he thought he’d never hear again in this lifetime.

“Come on, mate! We don’t have all day.” James laughed.

“What is this?” Sirius could barely utter the words.

“Don’t worry, Pads. You’ll be fine. Just take his hand. He has something to show you.” James smiled at Sirius. “Don’t be a mooncalf. Hurry up!” He teased.

“Okay.” Sirius whispered. Before Sirius could even move, he noticed small droplets of water started flying away from him and toward the mirror. When he looked down, his hands where nothing but clear running water streaming toward the mirrors surface. He screamed for Kreacher but before the elf could appear Sirius was propelled forward towards his father’s hand.

***

He felt like he was drowning, he couldn’t breathe, only the sensation of water surrounded him. Sirius forced his eyes open and found himself in dark, murky water – he imagined this is what swimming through the Black Lake must feel like. He caught sight of his hands and realised he was much younger. He brought his hands to his face about all he felt was stubble instead of his trimmed beard, he was the version of himself he had seen earlier!

The need for oxygen soon drew Sirius into the cold reality of his predicament. He started to swim up, but something was stopping him. He felt like there were hands all over him, but he couldn’t see them. He was trying to crawl his way to the surface, but he couldn’t move an inch! That’s when a pair of distinctive hands grasped his ankles, forcing him to look down in alarm. It was Regulus! Regulus was holding his ankles, but he looked so calm… it was like he could breathe under there or maybe he wasn’t breathing at all. The longer Regulus held him; the less Sirius could fight. He was weakening, he was fading… dying.

Regulus began to climb up Sirius’s legs until he was eye level with him. He put his hands either side of Sirius’s face so he could only look at his brother. There was a fierceness, a fire that Sirius had never seen before in Regulus’s eyes and without opening his mouth, Sirius heard Regulus clear as day screaming, “Go! Take him and the locket! Kreacher! Go now! I don’t care, take him back – they’ll kill him if he stays here! Kreacher, you must destroy it. He’s too weak. It’ll have to be you.”

The strength in his brother’s voice was just as foreign as the look in his eyes. Then it wasn’t just Regulus’s hands that Sirius felt, there were more hands clawing at his legs, the weight of it was pulling him down further into the abyss. Regulus’s voice continued to echo spells into Sirius’s mind, all while his mouth not opening once – both brothers fell into darkness.

***

Sirius sat up bolt upright taking the biggest breath he could. He was panting, like he been holding his breath for hours.

Surveying his surroundings, he was in someone’s living room on the sofa. He hadn’t been in this room before; he didn’t recognise it in the slightest, but he recognised some of the artifacts in it. He recognised the children’s toys in the corner, the jumper laid out on the armchair and the small bowl containing a goldfish. Tears sprung into Sirius’s eyes when he saw the photo frame on the small table next to him… it was Lily and James.

“Pads, what are you doing just sitting there? He’s here!” James’s voice called out from the hallway.

Sirius tried to respond but his mouth wouldn’t open either.

“Pads!” James’s voice was more urgent which caused Sirius to rush to the source.

He saw James fully braced staring at the front door and Lily on the stairs. “Go upstairs, get Harry and go!” James’s called out to Lily. “We’ll hold him off for as long as we can.”

Sirius could see Lily nod and run up the stairs leaving him and James on the downstairs landing waiting. “Right, we’re gonna run at him. As hard and fast as you can. With everything you got, Pads! You hear me! Everything! We must do this together! We can’t kill him alone, there’s too many! It must be together! Until the very end.”

“Yes!” Sirius thought but he sounded like he spoke it aloud. “Together, until the very end.”

“Together.” James echoed before the door flew open and a cloaked figure swooped in. The two men ran as fast as they could but neither reached it before a bright green light flew at them. The force sent them falling back into the staircase. Sirius felt his head collide with one of the steps and everything went blank.

***

When Sirius woke up his whole body hurt. It was like he had been hit by a train or dropped from fifty feet in the air. The sensation of something wet under him made him jolt up despite the pain; dread shot through him in he was dragged down into the water again. The wet surface didn’t feel like just water, it was solid, it felt like concrete after it had rained. Looking around, Sirius saw streetlights and a row of all too familiar terrace houses. Grimmauld place.

Number 12 had the door wide open, welcoming anyone into its hold. The orange glow of hall pushing its way out to illuminate the steps making them glisten. Sirius just sat there for a moment, watching the doorway – so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard the gentle rolling of tyres on tarmac behind him until a loud horn sounded behind him.

“Get out of the road, idiot.” A male voice called out for behind him.

“Sorry… Sorry.” Sirius stuttered as he stood up and for the first time so far, his mouth moved when he spoke. He stammered to his feet before making his way onto the pavement.

“F*cking idiot!” The voice called out after him.

Sirius continued to stare up at the doorway. What was behind that opening? What horrible fate was there for him to endure up those stairs? Sirius swallowed thickly before drawing in a deep breath through his nostrils, he shut his eyes for a moment – taking a moment to ready himself until… the distant panicked voice of Walburga emitted from the house.

“What have you gone and done now, you daft b*astard? What do you mean he's not coming back? What inferi? How can you say Regulus isn’t coming back? Stop saying that! Just stop it!” Walburga’s sobs ripped through the doorway drawing Sirius up the stairs… one painful step at a time.

When he entered the house, there wasn’t a soul near the doorway.

“In here, son. I’m here.” Orion’s deep voice carried its way softly through the house and washed Sirius in a sense of comfort after everything he had endured.

Sirius followed the voice into the study. Everything was crisp except the image of a women dressed in purple – presumably Walburga – rushing about the room and looking in different cabinets. She appeared a complete blur of movement, like a kaleidoscope of a woman. She was mummering but Sirius couldn’t make out what she was saying, it was like trying to listen to her with earmuffs on.

“You came.” Orion’s voice croaked out. “I knew you’d come back if I did this. I knew you’d come back to me, son.”

Orion was sprawled out over one of the sofas. One arm tucked into his jacket, a leg on the arm rest, and his other two limbs hanging loosely to his side touching the floor. He was so pale, too white, you would think it possible to see through him, but he had black streaks over his hands and face as if his blood had turned to ink. His suit was soaked through, clinging to his thinning frame – it was like the man was shrinking before your eyes. He moved his hand closest to the floor out to Sirius.

Instinctively, Sirius moved forward to sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa next to his father and reached for his hand. “I’m here. What did you do?”

Orion was coughing a spluttering as he strained to speak. The pain on his face was immeasurable as the scars on his face slowly began to come undone. “We’re going to kill him. We’re going to kill him and end it all. Your brother should be here soon and then we can destroy it.” He moved his hand from his jacket pocket to reveal a locket. “We worked out his secret. We’re going to make him mortal.” Orion coughed up a load of black liquid that trailed down his chin. “I drank the poison so your brother can destroy it. He’ll be here soon. He’ll be here and we can do this together. Together.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sure he’ll be here soon. We can all be together then.” Sirius tried to reassure his father the best he could, but Orion looked like he had aged thirty years in this small time.

“I’m so happy you’re here. I’m going to die but I’m glad you could be here. I’m glad I can die knowing you don’t hate me, Sirius. I love you so much.” Orion’s voice was getting quieter and more horse. “I did it for you. I didn’t want to let you down again – no more hiding from the war, I had to choose a side. I will choose you, Sirius. You and Regulus.” Orion began to choke on the black liquid he had been coughing up moments earlier. The man looked almost triple his age at this point.

Sirius felt his mouth go dry and a lump form in his throat; tears started to sting his eyes. “I’m here. No more talking.” Sirius used his spare hand to stroke his father’s hair. “I’m here. I’m so proud of you.” Sirius didn’t fully know what he was proud of but that’s not what mattered right now. “You can be with Y/N now.”

“It will be good to see her. I miss her so much. I’ll miss you, son. I’ll keep helping, I’ll find a way. I’ll find a-…” Orion looked up at Sirius as fought for his breath. The black substance continued to spit its way out of Orion’s mouth. Soon the liquid was pouring from his nose, ears, and eyes but Orion refused to look away from his son, Sirius would be the last thing he would see. It was truly horrific to see someone dying like this. The splits in his skin that were once scarred were now fully opened gashes to the bone. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt never-ending to Sirius – what had Orion drank?

Orion was no longer able to breathe as black fluid overwhelmed his system. Every part of him felt like he was on fire or submerged in acid. He let out one finally splutter before his eyes glazed over – that was the last time Sirius would look into his father’s eyes and it broke him. He fell forward onto his knees and let his head fall onto his father’s chest as sobs ripped through him. Sirius found himself screaming through his tears. He could let go of his father; he wouldn’t let go of the python grip he had on his hand.

“No. No, no, no, no…” Sirius sobbed into his father’s chest. Sirius used the hand that had stroked his father’s hair to shake his shoulder. “No. Wake up.” Sirius began to shake Orion more vigorously. “Dad!” but nothing worked. Orion was gone. Sirius continued to cry as the blurred purple woman came over and began to express her own muffled grief. Eventually, Sirius couldn’t open his eyes anymore and the world went dark as night.

***

Sirius was startled awake on the same settee in his father’s study by Kreacher splashing him in the face with glass of ice-cold water. Sirius felt like he was choking.

“Master, are you alright?” Kreacher enquired.

[the-marsh-harrier]

Make me… (LH!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Arthur, RDR2, and my first time writing for a long time so be kind. If you're going to share my writing, please reblog and I don't give permission for my work to be copied onto any other platforms. I only write on Tumblr so if you see this anywhere else, it's not me.

Masterlist

Part 2 - SMUT DNI if you are under 18!

Terminology: 'Carpet girl' - a woman that conducts sex work on the street usually carrying a carpet with her in order to do this. It's an 1800s term. (I remembered this from a TikTok video so could be remembering it wrong, either way - this is what this term is describing in this fic.)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of sexual encounters, slightly NSFW if you squint, use of the word 'skank', Arthur and Reader being rude to each other at the start.

You sat on the old table in the med tent examining the damage to your cheek in a small broken shard of a mirror. You were silently thankful that Tilly had already cleaned the cut and stitched it, so it didn’t look as bad as when you arrived back at camp. However, the blood staining your shirt was still a very evident reminder to how easily it could’ve been much worse.

You had gotten into a fight with a carpet girl in town after you and Abigail had ‘stepped on her territory’ while pulling your little scheme. Y/N and Abigail would take turns to lure a man into an alley, while the lure occupied the victim, the other would hit him round the head with a rock or brick. They’d mug him and run off with the loot. Normally, this wasn’t an issue until today where you ended up with a nasty cut on your cheek from the carpet girl’s switch blade before Abigail knocked her out as well.

“Where the hell is she then?”  Arthur’s angry voice boomed over the camp causing you to shrink slightly on the table. You prepared for another firm talking-to from him about being stupid, not needing to pull tricks anymore and every other comment he’d throw at you. You two had never attached a label to what you were but most of the camp had labelled you as Arthur’s whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The flaps to the med tent opened in an angry flurry as his spurs clinked against the dirt floor with every step. You dropped your head quickly, tilting the damaged side of your face away from him. He stopped in front of you with his hands rested on his gun belt. Without looking up, you could already feel the scolding glare pointed directly at your head. You heard he click his tongue frustratedly at your reluctance to look at him.

“Well. Show me your face then.” He ordered firmly but you didn’t move a muscle. You were oddly frozen under the weight of his looming presence – this wasn’t your Arthur, this felt more like his outlaw persona ordering a bounty around.

“Now.” His tone was dark and almost threatening causing you to finally look at him. Arthur looked at the fresh stitches on your face and hissed in a deep breath through his teeth. You saw Arthur lick his teeth as he looked down at the ground before looking at you expectantly. “I know what happened but you’re gonna tell me because I want you to hear how stupid it sounds.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you reluctantly recanted the story. “Me and Abigail just went out to make a little money and some skank decided she didn’t like it so… we got in a fight. She started to lose so she pulled a blade out on me and got in a slice on my cheek before Abigail could hit her with a brick.” You felt like a child having to explain yourself to him as he examined the wound on your face with your chin being held up by his fingers. He looked like a man possessed as his breathing grew heavier and his brows furrowed in annoyance. You tried to reach out to him, but he swatted you hands away with his free hand giving you no option but to fold them in your lap.

“You will listen to me this time.” Arthur growled. “From now on, you’re not allowed to use your ‘little tricks’ anymore. No more robbing people, you understand?” You could see he looked genuinely worried under his angry exterior… but it did little to make you want to agree with him.

“Excuse me but who are you to tell me that?” You sassed back as you pushed his hand off your chin. Telling the story again reignited your anger at the woman that had done this to you but now there was only Arthur there to bare the brunt of it.

Arthur’s head quirked to the side slightly as he bit his tongue, taking his time to think about his next response. “Don’t speak to me like that. I’m trying to keep you safe, and you make that difficult when you start acting stupid like this.” The glare he was sending at you could melt through steel.

“No, you’re trying to boss me about.” You snapped back matching his harsh glare with your own as you remained firm.

Arthur’s eyebrows twitched your response as he leaned forward caging you on the table between his solid arms. He nodded his head disappointingly at you. “Damn right I’m trying to boss you about because asking you to stop behaving like this clearly don’t work, does it?” He grumbled as his voice seemed to get lower and his drawl thicker. “I know it’s not the answer you want to hear, but you can’t go about mugging men in dark alleys. It’s dangerous and that-” he motioned to the stitching on your face “-is all the proof of it.”

Something about his condescending behaviour was making you even angrier and wanting to lash out. “Fine! I’ll go back to dancing in saloons then.” You sneered knowing that would get a rise out of him.

“Don’t you DARE.” He sneered back at you and pointed his finger in your face. “You’re more than a pretty face and a pair of tits and after today – that pretty face is gonna have nasty scar.” He tapped your jaw on the side where the wound was but was careful not to touch it.

You scoffed and smirked almost smugly. “It was my ass that got you paying for them dances anyway, you didn’t spend much time looking at my face from what I remember.” You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. You attitude was causing his temper to rise and his blood pressure to go along with it. You noticed the vein in his neck start to become more prominent and his jaw tighten.

“I’ve provided for you, given you a place to live where you don’t have to spread your legs every night for whoever pays the most, and I’ve kept you safe.” He spoke with a firmer and authoritarian voice, the growl in his tone akin to wagon wheels on gravel. “All those times you needed bailed out of the jail and it was me coming to get you. You should be thankful.” There was a surprisingly calm edge to his voice, like he was somehow managing to keep his temper simmering under the surface.

You laughed sarcastically at him as you leaned forward, getting in his face just like he had with you. “You only paid to get me out because you knew I would’ve fucked my way out that cell otherwise.” You whispered sadistically at him. Truth be told, this argument was doing more to turn you on now as the adrenaline in your system shifted to trigger some other primal instincts in you.

Arthur didn’t like that one bit, as his expression darkened even more. “Watch your tongue when you speak to me.” He warned. “I’d have just as easily left you to rot in that cell. There’s plenty of other women out there who’d be happy to take your place and don’t forget it.” He was angry, and right now your words were getting to him.

“Awh, save your pretty words and choke on them.” You bit back, not backing down. Instead of feeling like a damsel in distress you felt more like a horny depraved wench.

Arthur didn’t budge. Though he was much bigger than you normally, he appeared even bigger as his entire body seemed to tense as he looked down at you. “What did you say to me?” He hissed. “Go on, say it again. I dare you.” He exaggerated the word ‘dare’ with a growl as if he was threatening you, but you didn’t bat an eye to his threat.

“I said...” You whispered dangerously. “Save your pretty words and god damn choke on them.” You hissed back in the same tone.

Arthur’s fist clenched on the table either side of you as he weighed up his next move. It was like a switch in his brain flipped, and there was no going back. You watched as his back stiffened and he ground his teeth in frustration. The veins in his neck bulged against his shirt collar. “I’ll make you regret those words…” He hissed, just barely managing to stay in control of his anger.

Something about seeing him so angry and teetering on the edge of his temper flipped a switch for you too. Something much more desperate and wanton flooded your system as you watched his biceps straining against his cotton workshirt.

“I hope you fucking do.” You smirked and looked him over seductively as you gave into your urges.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that.” Arthur grumbled, as his hands were trembling with rage. He had a million different things he wanted to scream at you… but he was refraining from it. “Don’t think you can turn me on just looking at me with those big pretty eyes of yours.” His voice was laced with sarcasm as he spoke, his hands gripping the edge of the table with enough force it could probably splinter it. “I’m not one of your customers at the saloon anymore.”

“But you were.” You chuckled smugly and looped your fingers round the base of his suspenders. “And you always came back to see me.” You whispered and shuffled forward on the table as you parted your legs. Your hands slowly pulled his crotch towards yours using the spring of his suspenders to do so.

“That was different back then and you know that.” He huffed as his nostrils flared and he stood more upright between your legs. “I was your customer. Not your-” He cut himself off before finishing the sentence. “I was just your customer.” He reaffirmed.

You could see his eyes were darkening for a different reason now. He was visibly trying to ignore the fact you were touching him, your fingers playing with his suspenders and the way your thighs were brushing his hips.

You continued to look up at him with a devilish smirk. “What are you now then? Huh, big boy?” You whispered as you played with the clasps of his suspenders.

Arthur maintained his sharp gaze down at you, his entire being was on edge as he continued to ignore the fact that you were slowly wrapping yourself around him. It was obvious that the both of you were pushing boundaries on purpose. As if trying to make the other admit your situation was much more than what you two had been pretending it was.

“I’m your friend, nothing more.” He grunted.

You chuckled and bit your lips. “I ain’t never had a friend that does the things you do to me before. So, I’ll rephrase my question.” You whispered as you popped the clasps on his suspenders. “What do you want to be to me?” You inched your face closer to his keeping your gaze on his lips and occasionally flickering your eyes up to meet his. You could see he was wrestling with himself to not give into you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game with me that you might not want to play.” Arthur muttered darkly as he tried to remain composed. You watched as his eyes wondered to your hands now hooked on the waistband of his jeans, and then trailed your body to your lips. It was obvious that you wanted him… and it was clear a part of him wanted you more.

You observed him with a calm curiosity. “Tell me what you want me to be to you.” You ordered softly. “Just tell me.” You slowly pushed his suspenders completely off his body before returning your hands back to his hips pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“Stop teasing me.” Arthur groaned but you could tell he was enjoying this much more than he wanted to let on. His hands found their way onto your thighs above your skirt, squeezing them firmly. “Just…” He exhaled, his voice as husky as a cold winter morning. “Kiss me.”

You decided to give in, just once. You slowly leant in towards him, gently brushing your lips to his in a featherlight graze. “Tell me.” You whispered, letting your breathe fan over his lips. You affectionately brushed the tip of your nose against the side of his. “Just tell me what you want me to be.”

Arthur drew in a deep breath as his hands move up to your hips, giving them a firm squeeze, his eyes trailing after his hands avoiding your gaze. “I want you to be…” He paused for a moment as his words go stuck in his throat. He dipped his head to the crook of your neck before he whispered softly against your neck. “Mine.”

He slowly started to kiss along your neck and shoulder as far as your blouse would permit. You knew he meant it – but it still felt good to hear him say it.

You tilted your head back to give him more access to your neck as you undid the buttons of your blouse so you could bare more of yourself to him. You shrugged yourself out of your blouse, leaving it pooled at your waist where it was tucked into your skirts.

“Say it again.” You whispered through a breathy moan as you locked your ankles behind him thighs, keeping him against you.

“I want you to be mine.” Arthur groaned against you neck as his nipped at the soft skin there. His grip tightening on your hips as he harshly pulled you hips closer to his so you could feel the bulge in his jeans. His lips roamed along the base of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “I want you… all to myself…”

You moaned wantonly as he spoke, his words like pouring kerosene on your already burning desire for him. “I already am.” You mumbled as you got lost in him all over again.

Getting lost in Arthur was like swimming in a murky lake, never knowing what was lurking under the surface to pull you under. Every time you’d break free, you found yourself ready to walk back into his frigid waters and drowned all over again and again.

“Then prove it.” He breathed in a deep inhale through his nose against the area where your neck joined your shoulder. He dragged his tongue up your neck firmly up to your ear before catching your earlobe between his teeth. “Kiss me again.” He exhaled into your ear. “But don’t hold back this time.”

You shuddered as he managed to pull a small whimper from you as you relaxed evermore into his arms. You gently coaxed his head round to yours with small nuzzles against his cheek. The feeling of the stumble from his short beard scratching your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Once you were in reach of his lips, you kissed him deeply as your lips rolled against his in firm languid motions. The feelings behind the kiss coming from deep within you. Your lips moved together in a deliberate but effortless way causing you to slowly open your mouth to permit your tongues to dance together. The moment your tongues touched; Arthur made a deep groan seemingly emitting from the depths of his chest. He’d given in completely now and you could feel it.

He slowly pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead to yours as he panted through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to rush this, not this time.

You waited with bated breath for his next move but what came next shocked you.

“Make me need you.” He whispered lustfully as he calmed himself slightly. “I want you to make me feel like I’m nothing without you.”

His words and tone were so wanting and longing, like he’s been keeping them a secret for his whole life. You brought your hands up from his hip, brushing them against his chest so he’d feel the pressure through the material of his shirt, until your fingertips braced against his jawline. You pulled him into a much hungrier and rougher kiss, pouring your desperation to have him into it. The pair of you panting and snatching breathes throughout the kiss, not wanting to stop even for a second until the burn in your chest became too great and you were forced by your own body to pull away from him.

Arthur’s body shook with the roughness of the kiss as he moved his hands to your waist trying in vain to pull you closer. Your eyes opened briefly to take in the conflicted and vulnerable expression on his face. His eyes still closed as he refused to look at you, part of him terrified that he would see rejection in them.

“Make me ache for you…” he sighed as rocked his body closer to you. “Make me regret the day I met you… I wanna wake up and not even know what’s become of me and wishing I didn’t have to survive another day without you in my bed.”

The muscles in your legs flexed as your hips ground against him. The small amount of friction created by your brunched up skirts and his jeans stimulated your core making you to moan quietly. Your breathing was heavy as you held his face close yours with just the tips of your fingers – your hold wasn’t firm, evermore proving he was willingly giving himself to you and only you. You closed your eyes as you breathed him in.

“You make the filthiest things sound like a fucking prayer.” You whispered breathlessly as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arthur smirked and chuckled lowly in response while one of his hands smoothed over the hair on the side of your head. “The filthiest things are all I deserve, and all I have to give.” He whispered as he took hold of your chin causing you to open your eyes to see his ocean eyes staring back into yours. His eyes held lustful adoration, something far deeper than you’d seen before. You thought you’d seen glimpses of his love for you before now but now you were truly seeing all of it.

“Let me worship you the only way I know how.” He mumbled, giving into his urges, and kissing you with the force only matched by a hurricane.

A/N: Sorry for the cut off but this fic was getting insanely long. If people made it to the end and want a Part 2, leave a comment or a like so I know. Thanks for reading!

[the-marsh-harrier]

Who was Orion Black? (Pt 8) Orion Black x Female!Reader

A/N: I wanted to explore Sirius’s childhood more in a non-traditional sense and give Orion and Walburga some interesting character development. This takes place after Sirius has broken out of Azkaban. Although this is a reader insert in parts, it is not the main focus and some chapters will have little or no mention of the reader. I have also altered the year Walburga was born to be 1940 instead of 1925 as it states in cannon (this is my fanfic and I’ll do what I want with the characters that are in it). Similarly, in some of the chapters to come, I already know I will upset some people with the way I portray Sirius and Walburga’s relationship - remember everyone is entitled to portray fictional characters as they want in their fanfics and if you disagree, please write your own. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (Part 8) Part 9

Now or Never

By the time Sirius had reached his family home, the pouring rain had turned to sleet. He was thankful that Kreacher had lit the fires in his absence, the warmth and orange glow allowed Sirius to feel slightly at ease. Until…

“Decided to come back then?” The cold voice of Walburga bounced through the halls. When Sirius didn’t reply, she continued. “Your half-breed friend came. Left a letter for you on the kitchen table.”

Instead of doing what she expected, Sirius calmly and quietly made his way up the stairs.

“Where are you going?!” Walburga shrieked. “Talk to me!!”

Sirius quietly closed the door to his childhood bedroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks. He somehow looked worse than when he broke out of Azkaban. “Well, this just won’t do.” He muttered to himself. “Kreacher!”

***

The next morning, Sirius lounged opposite the portrait, legs crossed, tea in one hand and Dailey Prophet in the other whilst he waited for Walburga to wake up. Stone-cold sober and ready. He had read the letter Remus had left for him to fill in some of the blanks regarding Y/N L/N – most surprising as Sirius hadn’t asked for Remus’s help, but it was welcomed nonetheless.

She was born (DD) (MM) 1932. She grew up in (insert country) and attended (insert wizarding school). Once she finished school, she worked for the British Ministry of Magic as a Court Scribe for the Wizengamot. Y/N met Orion in the Spring of 1953 and they were married on the 29th of February 1956. She died on the 31st of July 1960 - it was this fact that Sirius found the most troubling, but he knew it to be true as Remus had secured a copy of her death certificate. Sirius had assumed that Y/N must have died very early into the marriage she shared with Orion but no… in fact they were still married when Sirius was born. In Remus’s digging, he had found that she had given birth in 1959 but the records about her child were not available for him to view as he was not a relative of the deceased.

Sirius set out to find his birth certificate, but it wasn’t where all the other documents were. He had found everyone else’s but not his nor a copy of Y/N death certificate in the book that held the rest. Sirius had drawn his own conclusion to this scenario, but he wanted it confirmed. Therefore, he was waiting for the woman he had believed to be his mother immortalised in paint to wake up. She was the one to know.

“You’re up early.” Walburga’s voice broke the silence that filled the room.

“Yes, my godson is coming for the holidays and I want to make sure I am in the habit of being presentable while he is here.” Sirius said courtly. He placed the paper down on the coffee table before him. “I also have some matters I wish to discuss with you.”

“Oh, you do; do you?” She matched his formal tone.

“Quite.” He drew his lips into his mouth before taking a sip of his tea.

“Let me guess. More about Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I would prefer that you refer to my mother as Black from now on.” Sirius said blankly. There was no emotion on his face as he took another sip of his tea.

Walburga attempted to hide the surprise on her face. “I am your mother.” She said a little too quickly.

“You can stop lying to me now. I know the truth. Unless you expect me to believe that my father – who loved his first wife so dearly, to your admission – had an affair with his cousin.” Walburga was staring at Sirius wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. “I didn’t think so. I know she died on the 31st of July 1960; I was born on the 3rd of November 1959. Y/N married Orion on the 29th of February 1956. You were right when I was sixteen. I wasn’t your son. In fact, I never was, and you spent the last thirty-five years lying to me.”

He could visibly see Walburga’s chest contract with every breath. Sirius set his mug down on the table and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know, growing up I never knew what you meant when you said you’d given up so much to raise me. I always assumed it was because you were so young. You would’ve been eighteen when you would’ve fallen pregnant with me, nineteen when you would’ve given birth. But it was never that. You were nineteen, called back from Merlin-knows-where to raise an eight-month-old baby that wasn’t even yours.”

Sirius’s eyes locked onto his tea as he nodded. “I wasn’t an easy child by any means. None of it was easy on you either though, was it?” He looked up at the portrait to see tears welling in her eyes. “You had so much responsibility put on you. A grieving husband that was starting to develop alcohol dependency, a baby, and then the pressure to get pregnant as soon as possible because that’s what the noble house of Black expects of its women. I can’t begin to imagine it.” He looked back at his tea when she hid her face in her hands. “I don’t blame you for blaming me, you know. Doesn’t make what you did to me growing up any better or justify it, but I understand it now.”

“Sirius, I’m so sorry.” She choked out. “No more lies. There’s no point in any of it now that you know the truth.” She swallowed thickly. “Ask me anything.”

“What was she like?” Sirius suddenly realised how Harry must feel having never known Lily. It was like a new hole opened in him that was never there before or maybe had had always known… growing up wishing for a different mother – his mother.

“She was a pleasant girl. I only met her a few times at family gatherings, the wedding, and I visited shortly after you were born with my mother. She adored you, as did your father. It gave me hope that I might be able to find what Orion had, finding someone you enjoy being with. My parents didn’t love each other, they had a unique friendship, a steady companionship but not love. Seeing Orion and Y/N was the first marriage I had seen that had love and was tolerated by the rest of the family.”

Sirius nodded before continuing his next question. “How did she die?”

Walburga took a deep breath. “She was hit by a muggle car. It was a young man driving the car, he was going too fast and lost control around a sharp corner. Both Orion and Y/N were hit, you were… you were at home with their house-elf – Norey, she was reappointed Hogwarts after. Your father was never the same after, he went over the bonnet; it was frightening really when I saw him after. If you had seen him at the time, you’d be surprised with how few scars he ended up with and how well he recovered considering. Your mother, she went under the car, she wasn’t as fortunate – she died before help arrived. Your father managed to get to her but… I can’t… I’m not going into any more detail than that.”

Sirius wasn’t prepared to hear that. He sucked his lips in once more and started to rub his face. “And dad’s drinking? When did that start?”

“I don’t want to say immediately but it started getting excessive just before the funeral so a few weeks after he left the hospital. Orion’s drinking was varied, you could say – he would get worse and better in a vicious cycle. While your father was still in hospital, your grandfather Arcturus moved you into here. That way he knew you were properly looked after. You were the first and only male heir at the time and that man would’ve given anything to keep you well looked after. Orion wanted to stay in the house he and Y/N had purchased in Aylesford, but Arcturus wanted him back in London after the funeral. Orion wasn’t allowed to see you until he moved back so, he was forced.” Walburga admitted.

“Why was it kept a secret? I was still the legitimate heir due to their marriage. It’s not like she wasn’t from a good enough family. There was no need to hide this.” Sirius questioned, looking up at the woman who had raised him.

Walburga offered him a sad smile. “Arcturus wanted to make sure he had his male heir. He thought it best if you grew up thinking I was your mother and that I have a child as soon as possible to make it more believable for you. After her death, her family believed integration was a necessity to make us more aware of muggle advances in technology and develop new protection methods from it; they advocated for more integration despite what happened to their daughter… Arcturus saw this as a reason to dissolve the family tie Orion had created and you solidified. He thought if you knew you had a family that believed in the integration of muggles into magical society and had exposure to her family, you would turn your back on the Black family traditions.”

“What of her family? Did they never ask of me? Or write?” Sirius was confused as to how they had never contacted him.

Walburga looked increasingly uncomfortable by this question but answered it anyway. “That requires a very complicated answer. You see, Y/N’s family didn’t blame the muggle driving the car for her death… they blamed your father for not doing something to save her. They tried to claim that Orion was an unfit parent for not attempting healing charms. We can all say what we would do in those moments, but we don’t know until we’re in them – to suggest he had sinister intentions because he was distraught, injured, and involved in the accident himself – was cruel. He was blaming himself before they said anything. I can’t imagine how he must’ve felt during that.” Walburga continued. “They tried to take you away entirely, but Arcturus wouldn’t have it. It was decided that if you were to remain with us, you needed another family member to take responsibility. Arcturus couldn’t take the role due to his demanding working hours, and Orion couldn’t as he was still recovering. It was decided that I was to return immediately to become your carer. Eventually, it was ruled that you’d stay with your father and me. Due to the destress your mother’s family had put on the situation and the immediate family stance of full integration, it didn’t put them in good stead with the Department of the Protection of Child Wizards and Witches. It was ruled that limited communication was preferential. From my understanding, they had correspondence with Arcturus. I don’t know any more than that.”

“Over time, a rift developed in her family due to the situation. Each side becoming extremists differently; joining Voldemort or wanting full integration – both were very dangerous in mine and your father’s opinion, Arcturus… well, you already know what side of her family he agreed with and thus those were who he would speak to. Some of them wanted muggles to be educated on the existence of magic so it could be used in their presence, it’s a terrifying concept when you think of how we are portrayed to them – muggles fear us and when muggles are frightened or threatened, they’re violent. Very risky business if you ask me. They appealed the decision, but the department decided that leaving you with the L/N’s could put you in danger due to their stances on integration. You must understand, that it was a different time, most of the wizards and witches involved had seen at least one muggle world war – that kind of fear doesn’t disappear. Your father and I tried to shield you from those worlds but as you got older, and another wizarding war was drawing closer - it was almost impossible. That’s when the obsession to keep you here only grew worse. We didn’t want either of you boys involved in any of it, but we lost you both to it in the end.” Walburga concluded.

Sirius was feeling very overwhelmed by all the information he’d just been given. “That’s enough for today, I think.” Sirius said as he rose from where he was seated and began to exit when Walburga started talking again.

“Sirius, I never wanted this for you. I wanted to do right for you, but I was so young and angry. By the time I realised I had taken it too far you were packing your things to leave for the Potter’s, and I was too prideful to ask you to stay. That’s why I tried so hard to get you a trial, to try to get you out of there… out of Azkaban but I couldn’t. I failed you repeatedly. I didn’t fully understand the repercussions of my actions until I was old and alone at Orion’s funeral. I couldn’t even bury my own son. The only son I had left was you, but I knew you’d never forgive me… I knew because I wouldn’t have forgiven me either.”

Sirius didn’t say anything. He just continued to walk out of the parlour toward Orion office.